


Cold Silence

by NothingSpecial (Myster_Misterious)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Friendship, Silence, venting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 13:28:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9493502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myster_Misterious/pseuds/NothingSpecial
Summary: 'I'm fine...'...'Help me...'





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Everyone I'm letting down](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Everyone+I%27m+letting+down).



> I'm sorry if you look at this and it stresses you out or anything, I'm also sorry for the shit writing, I'll write much better if I write again but I'm in no condition to care as of now.

'I waited for... Six or so months... Both of us stressed and eventually both experiencing great physical pain for separate reasons... Nowadays he... And I... We have both gotten worse... And he...' He tilted his head back to look up, squeezing his eyes shut and breathing deeply in shuddering breaths, 'I think he's going to die... A-And- And I'm making it worse. I care so much about him, and I could dare to do this... I should leave when I can't hold back but I'm too much of a coward and an idiot to do so...'

Once again you respond with silence.

'Not to sound dramatic but... Everyone I speak to... They just... Decline.' He fiddles with the drawstrings on his jacket before moving up and tugging on his hood a bit, 'An Australian girl... Someone who'd had a crush on me... My friends... The leader... The leader... The leader is someone I have failed more times than I can count... I get so much better before I just crumble down again. It tears me up, I want to make her proud, I want her to have a reason to look at me and say "wow" but I... Every time I do give her one, soon after I relapse, get back into a slump... I want to die every time I think about this...'

Silence.

'I'm trying so hard... Y'know? I...' He scratches at his arm a bit, 'God, I haven't hurt myself in a long time but I want nothing more than to just die on the spot... I just want to let the cold swallow me up, take my body into its gaping maw and tear it asunder...' He sighs, 'And don't bother trying to make me feel better, I am talented, yeah, whatever, I'm special, I can be kind... The problem is I am also able to have mood swings, I lash out, I tear at the weaknesses I know will affect people most, I lie and I manipulate... So don't act like I'm some great person... That'll only disappoint me...'

Silence...

For the first time today he lets his disguise slip, a morbid chimera of sounds built of sobs, laughter and pain all loosely stitched together piercing the veil of silence over his lips, sheer physical and emotional agony wracking his figure as he covers his eyes with his palms, doubling over his legs before moving his fingers to his scalp, digging at it, nails dull yet piercing like daggers...

It fails to prompt you to speak as much as each instance before.

Eventually he speaks again, hiccuping through his words as he did, looking at you with reddened eyes and skin damp down to his collarbone, 'Truth is, I can control myself, I hurt people, all I want is to help but all I do is hurt... My eating is bad again... My body is giving in... Everything is cramping and I... Just feel awful...' He sighs weakly, 'I'm already dying...' He gives you a sad smile, 'What with all the stress... My anxiety... My depression... My dysphoria is never satisfied no matter how flat my chest gets... Not that it gets flat... My whole life is in disarray... I'm begging for a close animal companion but the denial just makes it worse... I'm lonely and depressed... I'm... I'm just not in the mindset to be...'

It's now that you notice how pale he is, how much he is fighting to hold himself upright, how shaky his hands are... Yet you stay deathly silent.

He looks down, biting his lip and appearing to calm somewhat, 'I wish I could just go... I know I promised... I have people I care so much about... I just... But I just think this whole world would be so much better off without me.'

Silence.

He gets up and walks out after a long silence shared between you and him becomes too much for him to bear, legs wobbling unsteadily.

Silence.

He would come in the next day, a bit late... He has cuts on his arms, he tells you, he holds his shoulder in his insecure silence and says, 'I need your help'

Silence.

He doesn't show up again until a few days have passed, he is disheveled, bruises trail up his legs, his arms are hidden beneath bandages, stained with the smallest bit of blood in various spots.

'Please... Help me...'

Silence.

This time it is three weeks before he shows again, he's thinner than he's ever been, coughing feebly, eyes heavy and dark, skin pale, his loose clothing now sliding in a few places.

He doesn't say a word.

He is answered by a lonely silence.

 

...

 

He dies on a late Sunday night, drenched in tears, body emaciated and wounded, his face contorted in a look of deep sorrow aimed down at the iPad in his cold hands.

Skype is open.

His status reads "I could really use some support, I'm not sure I'm going to make it... I'm too weak to type much... Please help me..."

You cry.

His friends cry.

He lies in an open casket...

As alone in death as he was in life.

...

_'What could I have done to save him...?'_


End file.
